Crossing the Universe
by ms.mango
Summary: Nyota Uhura 2009 finds herself in an alternate, mirror Universe where no one is the way they were meant to be. Her Survival depends on how well she can adapt to her new life as the first officers Spock tos/mirror woman.
1. Redirected

**Disclaimer: I do not own Spock, Uhura, or the mirror verse…really wish I did though!**

**A/N: Special Thanks to my Awesome Beta Tkeyla! **

Redirected

The language patterns of the newly documented humanoid species of Shaltas 4 were unlike any Nyota had heard before. She recorded and reviewed common communicative phrases to submit to the language banks. As she packed up her research equipment she sent the rest of the communications team to beam up ahead of her, in order to begin the long process of transcribing the recordings. After securing her equipment, she thanked the two Shaltasian chieftains for their assistance and radioed that she was ready for transport.

As Nyota materialized on the transporter pad, she began to feel herself fade, she was there and then suddenly she wasn't. When she came to this time, she managed to anchor herself. Once she had completely materialized she stumbled forward, wanting to find herself on solid ground once more.

"Who are you?" a calm, steady voice approached her from the transporter station. Nyota looked up at the tall stranger wanting to know the same thing. Her eyes searched his strangely familiar face. Spock was the only Vulcan aboard the enterprise; if there had been another she would have known about it.

Instinctively drawing her hand to her hip for her phaser she found that it was missing as was her communicator. She looked past the Vulcan to the blue symbol on the door; an image of Earth skewered by a sword. Her eyes jerked back to the man standing in front of her and she began to back away but he followed.

"I am Lieutenant Uhura, of the Starship Enterprise…"she stated calmly, staring into the officer's dark eyes. She felt as if she were being entranced by his gaze and struggled to tear her eyes from his as he pulled a small sharp dagger from his waist.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his calm conflicting with the dagger he now held at her neck.

Nyota gritted her teeth as the tip of the blade was pressed to the delicate skin of her neck, and she felt the slightest piercing of her skin. "We…I come in peace…" she breathed, hoping to reassure him that she posed no threat.

Without warning he jerked her from the wall and flung her to the hard, cement floor. "You lie!" he barked standing over her splayed form. She blinked up at him, ignoring the sharp pain that had shot through her ribcage as she had collided with the floor. It accrued to her to try another approach. Although his actions indicated otherwise, he was most assuredly Vulcan, and if she could appeal to his Vulcan nature, she may be able to reach him.

She took a deep breath and sat up. "dorli Vuhlkansu, Please allow me to explain," she implored, scooting away from him slightly.

His brow quirked, though not in the thoughtfully intrigued manner she had expected, instead there was a clear indication of anger as his brows drew together. "You mock me?" he growled lashing out at her once more.

There was not enough time for her to climb to her feet so she tried to scoot away from him, but was not fast enough. His hand shot out and he jerked her to her feet by the base of her long ponytail. She let out a painful wail as he held her, his face inches from hers.

"Who are you?" he asked yet again.

There was silence. She was unsure of how to respond since the truth had gotten her thrown across the room. Against her better judgment her response came in the form of a question: "Who are you?"

He glared at her with an impenetrable darkness and she was sure he would attach her again. After a few moments he let go and stepped back as if he were inspecting her. "I am Spock, science officer of the ISS Enterprise. A ship on which you are trespassing and attempting to impersonate an officer, a crime punishable by death."

A sickening fear settled over her as her mind began to race. "You are not Spock," she hissed, feeling as if she were part of a twisted joke.

He peered at her expectantly as she took in the sights around her, her heart rate increased as she began to panic; something was terribly wrong. She turned and bolted to the door, unsure of where she was going but determined to figure out what was going on. She made it out of the door and into the hallway just as the distinct sound of a phaser fire met her ears, her body convulsed in pain, and she collapsed unconscious.

Spock approached the lifeless form as two security guards hurried over with their phasers drawn. "We heard the commotion sir, we got here as quick as we could" explained one of the young men as the other checked Nyota's pulse.

"My phaser was set to stun, there was a malfunction in the transporter and ensign Bolaria did not beam aboard, instead this…imposter has found her way onto the ship, alert Mr. Scott of the malfunction." While Scott was being radioed Spock inspected the woman who lay at his feet; she did bare a slight resemblance to the communications officer yet it was not possible that she could be the lieutenant. He was quite sure that she was in her quarters, and this woman's physique was nothing like hers. Then there was her uniform; it was unlike any of those assigned to the females aboard the Enterprise. Perhaps she was from an anti-empire starship he thought as he observed the silver arrowhead insignia over her left breast.

"Where should I take her?" one of the guards asked as he locked his phaser into its holster.

"Of course she will have to be executed…" Spock explained still eyeing her, "… but I believe Lieutenant Uhura would be amused to meet the woman who calls herself by the same name, take her to the lieutenant's quarters, I must alert the captain."

Nyota woke in a cold sweat. _I was dreaming_ she thought sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Her head ached and there was a sharp pain in her side when she pushed off the leopard print bed spread and tried to stand.

"So you are Lieutenant Uhura… of the Enterprise?" a woman's voice came from the darkness.

Nyota jumped and stumbled back onto the bed. "Lights," she commanded, her voice quivering slightly. She searched the room for the person the voice belonged to. In the far corner she spotted a beautiful, alarmingly familiar, woman reclining on a plush red chaise. "Yes, I am Uhura," Nyota mumbled, realizing in alarm that she had not been dreaming after all. She moved to get up again, only for the woman to draw a dagger out of her boot and point at her in warning.

"Sit," she commanded as if she were addressing an animal. Nyota felt herself resist but as her eyes settled on the weapon, she did as she was told and remained seated. "Well… I am also Uhura," the woman laughed as she stood and adjusted the short crop top she was wearing.

Nyota studied the woman in a mix of amazement and horror, first the bearded Vulcan who had claimed to be Spock and now this? Nyota closed her eyes, trying to entertain the possibility that she had been transported to the wrong ship, which had a Vulcan science officer named Spock and a Lieutenant named Uhura. Nyota glared at the woman once more; she was muscular yet feminine, her tall polished boots reaching all the way up to the hemline of her ridiculously short skirt. Nyota half expected her to carry a whip.

After adjusting her uniform the woman sauntered over to Nyota, an amused smirk playing on her lips. "Where am I?" Nyota asked the scantily clad officer who approached her.

The smirk quickly disappeared as she bent down so that she was eye level with Nyota. "If you want to live, you will stop asking questions. You will answer what is asked of you, and if your superiors do not like your answer you will change it. Understand?" The woman glared at Nyota who refused to answer and continued to avoid the woman's stare. The cold metallic feel of the dagger contacting with her cheek made her jump as it was trailed down her face and under her chin.

"_**I**_ am Lieutenant Uhura, and you - Nyota - are on the ISS Enterprise. We have determined that you are from an alternative universe, and judging from the supplies we removed from you, we are approximately twelve years ahead of your universe. Not that that really matters. You are now our prisoner. You are to serve as the woman of one of our top ranking officials, and if you do not comply you will die. It is just that simple. I saved you once, but do not count on much additional kindness here." Nyota stared blankly after the woman as she retreated back to her spot on the lounge chair.

_Alternative universe_ Nyota had heard the term before but there had never been any proof of the existence of such a realm. She looked at the slight yet imposing woman idly swinging the sharp dagger as she reclined. Feeling lightheaded, she lay back down on the soft bed, the ache in her ribs worsening with every movement.

The intercom in the room sounded and Nyota was on high alert once more, "Lieutenant…" a female's voice said, "If the prisoner has awakened, you will escort her to Commander Spock's quarters."

Nyota stared at the woman with wide eyes, wanting to beg her not to send her to him. She didn't think she could bear to face him again. Her silent pleas were for naught - she was seized her by the arm and dragged brutally from the bed. Nyota twisted and jerked, trying to unsuccessfully to free herself.

Uhura let go of her arm and she tumbled to the floor, worsening the pain in her ribs. Nyota lay in pain as the dam broke. "Please don't make me go…" she sobbed clutching her side. She pleaded and whimpered as the woman approached her and pulled her back to her feet.

"You will come. I have been ordered to take you to the commander's quarters," Uhura hissed at her, digging her nails into the soft flesh of Nyota's arm.

* * *

dorli Vuhlkansu = honorable Vulcan


	2. Second Encounter

Second Encounter

Nyota was flung into the room by her merciless counterpart who had given her a single command before she had abandoned her, "Obey". The spacious turquoise room looked like an office space. There was a computer and communications consol, a shelf full of what looked like ancient texts, and several chairs; it was eerily quiet. Nyota hurried to the console which seemed identical to the one she had had on her Enterprise. As her fingers slid over the familiar buttons, she heard a door behind her open and she froze.

"Come Nyota," a deep, calm, voice beckoned her.

She turned around slowly to face him, prepared to launch herself at him if he reached for her. Behind him she spotted the door opened to what looked like a bedroom. Her heart sank. "No," she said as she managed to step further away from him.

He strode closer to her still. "Your insubordination cannot be tolerated. You must be punished," he stated as he grabbed her arm and began to drag her towards the room.

Unable to free herself from his crushing grip, Nyota swung at him with her free hand, striking the side of his face with her closed fist. He jerked his head around to face her, and she swung again, this time the ring she forgot she wore dug into the flesh of his cheek. She pulled back once more, prepared to take another swing when he withdrew his phaser.

"Your death is becoming exceedingly difficult to avoid," he warned releasing her from his grasp. He allowed her to pull away, and she ran to the door leading out into the foyer. I was locked, of course, and one needed an exit code leave. "Running about this room will do little to help your situation, Nyota," he chided still aiming the phaser at her. "Sit," he commanded. Nyota considered the phaser pointed at her and decided to appease him with her obedience.

Taking a seat in the chair farthest from him, she sat stiffly eyeing him all the while, "You insist on making things very unpleasant for yourself," he paused returning the phaser to its holster. "It is most illogical." He approached her where she sat and peered down at her. Nyota felt a brief satisfaction when she spotted the deep, green gash on the right side of his face. "Remove this…uniform," he ordered as his eyes swept over her. Nyota stared blankly back at him- she did not answer, she did not move.

His eyebrows arched sharply at her continued defiance and he retreated silently, walking over to the desk near the communications console. He opened one of the drawers and retrieved a red, triangular device. Nyota watched as he inserted a chip into the small device and touched a few buttons on his computer screen. As he walked back to her, Nyota's eyes lingered on strange object in his hand. He bent to look her in the eyes; he stared at her in disapproval of her blatant disobedience. Without warning he pressed the device to the left side of her chest. Her nails dug into the arms of the chair. It was as if every cell in her body had received an electrical shock., She convulsed and thrashed about in agony as the current ripped through her. The mere seconds seemed to drag on forever and for a moment she was sure she would blackout. When the torture subsided she slouched back into the chair, her body still trembling. She squinted at him standing inches away from her., "Do as you are told," he demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Nyota tried to focus as she stood wobbling from the chair. She reached down and began to pull her standard issue uniform over her head., She only made it half way before the pain in her side made her stop., "I can't," she whispered, close to tears brought on by pain and humiliation.

Spock glared at her, slightly annoyed. "Turn around," he instructed before removing the blade from his hip and effortlessly ripping through the dress , leaving it to pool in shreds of red and black material at her feet.

His eyes raked over her slim figure as she stood perfectly still in her thin white undergarments. She was younger, softer, and more fragile than the Nyota he had come to know. He noted the tender, purple swelling on her right side from where he had thrown her earlier that day. She apparently bruised quite easily. Her wide anxious gaze betrayed the fear she tried in vain to conceal. A harsh grin played on his lips as he inspected her., "You are very different from our Nyota, but assuredly just as pleasing…," he remarked as he circled her. "Perhaps more so."

Nyota struggled to remain calm as he stopped in front of her. The steel handle of his blade brushing against her bare stomach made her acutely aware of the danger if she attempted to attack him again. She refused to raise her eyes to his even as she felt his slim fingers slide up her spine and come to rest on the back of her neck. She held her breath, trying to ignore the heat of his fingers on her skin. She concentrated instead on the small space between them; her fingers moved cautiously searching for the handle of the blade fastened at his side. His fingers brushed up the side of her face and down to her lips. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. He leaned forward, his rough beard grazing her chin, the heat of his breath reaching her lips. Instinctively she turned her head away from him in disgust. Still, her finger tips rested lightly on the base of his dagger. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she slid her hand down the length of the handle.

As her hand lingered on the weapon a sudden blow to the right side of her head blinded her and she found herself crumpled on the floor. She lay there, disoriented; unable to move she felt the thin fabric that had preserved her modesty being ripped from her body. She fought to remain conscious and was soon vaguely aware of being picked up. The motion of being moved made her dizzy and she closed her eyes and the sensation. The cool silken sheets of the bed where she was placed beckoned her to sleep, while the dull ache of her head seemed to abate as she swam beneath the fluid sheets. She allowed herself to relax. The faint sound of the intercom's chime echoed in her ears as she watched the blurry figure leave the room.

* * *

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of someone entering the cabin. She sat up in the bed and commanded the lights on, but she was still alone. As she glanced around the room she could not conceptualize how much time had passed- what seemed like a few seconds could have easily been hours. Throwing back the sheets, she was startled by her own nakedness, a sick confusion creeping over her. Tears stung her eyes, and she really didn't know what had happened. She did not feel as if she had beenviolated, but it was entirely possible., And it was that possibility that sickened her the most.

She wrapped a sheet around her and stumbled out of the bed. The room was small; there was a lavatory, a dressing area, a desk, and a few bare shelves. Mostly, it felt like a prison. Nyota tried the door but an access code was needed to exit. Just then she heard his voice. He was in the next room. As Nyota strained to make out what was being said, she heard a familiar voice. Before she could place who it belonged to she heard him say her name. "Lieutenant Uhura."

The woman giggled and Nyota heard the sound of another door open and close, then there was silence. Thinking that they had left, Nyota began to try random codes on the key pad. She tried the numbers that corresponded to the letters in his first name, scientific formulas, and even her own birthday and those of his family members. When Nyota entered in the square root of phi the doors slid open.

Nyota felt a rush of relief that quickly dissipated when she found herself face to face with her captor. He stood in the door frame, his disheveled appearance making her even more uncomfortable. Nyota's eyes traveled from his bare chest to the unhealed scare she had left on his cheek.

"The likelihood that you would guess the correct code is 300,473 to 1," he stated calmly, stepping in to the room, gently pushing her away from the door as she craned her neck to see around him. As the door closed and locked behind him, Nyota had a sinking feeling. She was sure she would have to fight him off again, and likely end up worse off than she currently was. The cycle was beginning to take its toll on her psyche and for a moment she considered giving in to his demands. In the dark she might be able to trick herself; his tall, slender body was so similar to that of the man she loved, and he even had that same soothing baritone voice. With little effort she could pretend that he was her Spock and maybe live long enough to somehow return to the life she knew.

He walked past her and surveyed the room; he had not seen her since he had left her there the previous night. Nothing in the room had been disturbed, excluding the bed. After a quick inspection he turned his attention to her. She looked sallow, her hair was a tangled, matted mess, and a small knot had surfaced where he had struck her. She stared at him blankly, and seemed not to care that he had caught her trying to escape.

"In 1.5 hours, I will supply you with clothing and nourishment. You will dress, you will eat, and then I will explain to you in detail what your duties on this ship will be…" He paused, waiting for her to respond. When she remained silent, he continued, "If you do not obey my orders there are more sever forms of punishments than the ones you have already received. I also strongly suggest that you utilize the hygienic facilities provided for you in this room." He waited for her to respond once more; again she said nothing but shuffled away to the lavatory.

Spock reprogrammed the access code before leaving Nyota's room and making his way back past the computer station to his personal living quarters where his Lt. Uhura waited. She was a warrior of sorts, a venomous beauty that he had the pleasure of serving alongside. She was a rarity, her way with words as lethal as it was seductive. Few could resist her charm which made her a dangerous necessity. Spock himself found her irresistible and though she usually denied the advances of fleet officers, she had made him the exception. She had been a challenge for him and once he succeeded, he found that she was well worth the effort.

She was nothing like the terran women he had been with before. She made love as if she were engaged in battle; she was unconquerable, unyielding, and brutal. Her nails raked over his skin, leaving long, jagged scars in their wake. She cursed and insulted him in more languages than he understood, demanding her pleasure as he drove her screaming and panting over the bed and to the floor. Her prowess was unmatched- she was insatiable. Fortunately he had the stamina to keep up and the skill to bring her over the edge of fulfillment. But it ended as it always did; she would shower, redress and return to her quarters. She refused to stay, her way of reminding him that she would never be an officer's woman.

This time when she departed, his thoughts went immediately to the wide-eyed young Nyota whom he held in his spare room. He could sense that she had the same charm and intellect that his lieutenant had. She appeared strong and capable, yet she also possessed a gentleness that few women aboard his ship had. She fought but only because she felt she had to. There was no precondition to violence that he could observe. She would be the woman that Uhura refused to be, and would make him a suitable officer's woman - if he could break her. He could have them both; Uhura to battle and explore the darkest recesses of carnal pleasure, and Nyota when the battle was over and he sought refuge from the darkness in a softer place.

It would take time, he realized, but she would be worth the effort. He also realized that the more force he used on her the less she yielded. This was a new occurrence entirely. He would have to rethink his strategy as she did not seem to understand that her disobedience would only cause her more distress; it was illogical for her to continue to behave so defiantly when she was in fact at his mercy.

* * *

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	3. Solitude

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Solitude

The sonic shower had made her relax, even as she anticipated Spock's return. She was hungry and had lost track of how long she had been aboard this strange vessel. It was all so confusing; she had always been instructed not to comply when taken as a hostage; once you cooperated and were no longer of use, you were as good as dead. But what did they want with her? They actually already had her… a version of her who fit into this universe better than she ever could. She had a pretty good idea of what Spock had intended to do with her but it seemed that anyone could serve such a purpose. She had many unanswered questions, but most of all she wanted to know how she had gotten into this unforgiving universe and how she could escape.

When he returned with a servant carrying a tray of food and clothing, she stood quietly at the far end of the room. Spock dismissed the short stocky man who sat the items he was carrying on the desk and hurried out. Spock picked up the soft purple bundle and walked over to where she stood. He was so unnervingly close to her she had to force herself not to react.

"Please return the sheet to your bed. I have provided you something more appropriate to wear," his deep voice rumbled in her ears. She nodded silently and accepted the bundle that he held out to her, turning her back to him and dressing as quickly as she could. She had to grit her teeth in pain as her arms clumsily hit against her sore ribs. His eyes followed her every move.

"You will eat now," he ordered, pulling out the desk chair.

Nyota eyed him suspiciously as she sat at the desk and lifted the lid off the plate. The pungent smell of gesper root almost made her gag. She hated the slimy vegetable, especially when it was boiled, but allowed a brief smile; her Spock ate it all the time. She forced down the first bite and then the next, realizing how hungry really was. She finished her plate, paying no attention to Spock who was still studying her.

After her meal she listened attentively as he explained that her job aboard the Enterprise would be to assist him. She was to take her meals in his quarters which consisted of three rooms; the office area, his private quarters at the opposite end of the hall, and her bedroom, where she would spend the majority of her time until she was less inclined to attempt to escape. In time, she would be permitted on the bridge, to assist the communications officer, but not until she no longer posed a risk. Although she was appalled at his insinuations about her duty aboard, she was grateful when he left without ever touching her.

The rest of the evening and all of the following day, Nyota had nothing but time, to think, to strategize, to worry, and to change her mind a hundred times over. She forced herself not to speculate on the whereabouts of her crew members. She thought they had apparently made it back to the Enterprise, but now she was not so sure. As she had ended up here, maybe they had ended up someplace else as well. Anything was possible and she sincerely hoped that they had made it back to the Enterprise, and that they were searching for her. Spock would look for her. She knew the man that he was, his affection for her, even though their relationship was complicated. If she _could_ be found, he would find her - all she had to do was stay alive.

Spock did not return. Three times during the day the same man brought her food and clothing, flanked by two tall security guards. He nodded politely as he sat a tray on her desk and retreated as quickly as he had come. She ate whatever she was given. After two days it was the only thing she looked forward to. Her life consisted of eating, sleeping, worrying, and trying not to lose her composure. The servant never spoke to her; he hardly looked at her most of the time, nor did the guards.

On the third day when her lunch was being delivered, she stopped him before he left, grabbing his arm. "Could I please have something to read?" she whispered, bending to look at him squarely. His bright yellow eyes shot up to the guards towering above him, and then back to her. He twisted his arm out of her grasp and the three men left.

Days passed and Spock never returned. She was pleased that her wounds were healing and she had been undisturbed. But a real sense of boredom was beginning to overtake her. She had nothing to read, no one to talk to, and no form of entertainment. She stayed in the room pacing the floor, forcing herself to sleep, dreaming of her life as it should be. She sang to herself, songs she remembered from her days at the academy. But in the darker moments, she sang the African songs of her childhood, feeling closer to home. After five days she began kicking, at the door screaming to be let out, but no one ever came. She tried to communicate with the servant and guards again. She even tried different languages, but there was never any response.

A week passed, and still Spock never returned to her room. She heard him enter the quarters and every time she tensed, anticipating his arrival. He never came. On the eighth day she threw her breakfast at the men when they came, sending a steaming plate of semolina flying into the face of one of the guards. At lunch time there was a new guard. She threw her lunch at them as well. Dinner never came that evening.

She awoke one morning to a loud thump against her door and the loud shriek of a woman's voice. She jumped up thinking the ship might have come under attack. She ran to the door and pressed her ear to it. There was another thud and she was sure she had heard Spock's voice this time, in a loud painful moan. She was about to kick the door when she stopped, recognizing the woman's voice when she let out another wail. It dawned on her then that the ship was not under attack at all. She felt her skin go warm with shock and embarrassment as she retreated back to her bed. The next day it happened again. They made no effort to hide their activities. She heard their Uhura shrieking and swearing, when Spock apparently had her pressed up against the door of her room. It seemed to go on forever. When she had had more than she could stand, she began to pound on the door in response to their crude behavior; Uhura only seemed to get louder.

She was given one meal a day after her "attack" on the guards who now wore transparent shields. They continued to refuse to answer her when she spoke to them.

After the second week, she began to cry herself to sleep at night. During the day she slammed the chair against the door whenever she heard someone enter the quarters and screamed until she lost her voice. On the fifteenth day she lay in bed as her daily meal was delivered. She watched the servant who she had named Gremlin sat her tray on the table along with a new bundle of clothing. He nodded politely as always and left. She had tired of trying to speak to him so she just turned over and waited to hear the doors close behind him.

She hurried over to her meal and scarffed down half of it before pushing the rest aside for later. She turned her attention to the neatly tied black and white bundle. As she unrolled the silky fabric, her eyes filled with tears as she stared down at a pile of thin, yellowed papers, pages from a book. Abandoning the desk, she carried the loose pages to her bed. The top page looked like the beginning of the texts; she read the title slowly "The Great Gatsby." She began to read, pouring over the pages until she had finished all twelve pages. She reread them, slowly and then hid them under the thin mattress, hoping that she would be given more pages soon.

A few days later, her servant who she had renamed Kutav, after the Swahili word for giver, was able to smuggle her a few more pages under her plate. Nyota limited herself to a page a day, unsure of when she would receive more; when she finished these she would start the book again. She lost track of the days as she disconnected from her reality. She fantasized about life in the early 1920s , so bright and carefree, the parties she read about, the love affairs and scandals. It was an escape, and a way of staying sane in the maddening solitude.


	4. What Happened?

What happened?

One night as she poured over her newest pages, she heard someone entering in the entry code to her room. She had already received her daily meal. She crammed the pages under her mattress and pretended to be asleep.

"Nyota, you are a wake," Spock stated as the doors closed behind him.

Nyota felt her body tense at the sound of his voice; she rolled over and glared at him. Nobody had spoken to her in over two weeks and for a moment she was at a loss for words. "I was resting," she lied, sitting up and smoothing out her wrinkled dress.

He raised an eyebrow and she almost laughed- it was something her Spock would do. "Come," he stated, moving to open the door. Nyota bounded from the bed and walked gingerly out the open door and into the foyer. The lights were much brighter than she was use to and she stood blinking, waiting for the discomfort to subside. She felt his warm hand lightly grip her arm as he led her to the room on the other side of the office.

Nyota squinted, trying to make out the numbers he that put into the key pad, before noticing that he had a retina scanner as well. The doors swished open and she surveyed the room anxiously before stepping inside. The room was quite different from her own. His was much larger, the deep red carpet under her bare feet was much softer than her own; the walls were elaborately decorated with ancient symbols of Vulcan. There was a computer station, a large lounge sofa, a set of small tables, and a shelf holding several books and a large ornate incense burner. Nyota peered around the silk screened room divider to find a large plush bed with a gold and burgundy spread, a few counters, and a large lavatory that seemed to have both sonic and water shower capabilities. Spock watched as she explored the room curiously, pleased at her interest.

Her gaze came to rest on the ka'athyra, sitting on a shelf above the bed. She felt her breath catch as sudden tears filled her eyes, "Spock…" she whispered, a soft sob trying to escape her. He watched as her shoulders hunched forward, her small frame wracked with tears. He had not expected her sudden, emotional outburst. When she turned to face him, he found that she looked more angry than sad. "Why?" she demanded as she staggered towards him tears streaming down her cheeks. Startled, he allowed her to fall on him, striking his chest with her fists. After a few moments she tired and collapsed to the floor wailing. He stepped back from her and walked over to the shelf above his bed and retrieved the ka'athyra. He turned it over in his hands and contemplated it, wondering what it was about the instrument that caused her such grief.

He turned to look at her, no longer crying but her face still moist. She looked at him from where she sat. "I want to go home," she managed through gritted teeth.

He glared at her she still did not realize that this was her home now. There was no going back. He paced over to her, took hold over her arms, and jerked her to her feet. "You must restrain yourself from these types of outbursts," he asserted, holding her away from him. She twisted, slightly trying to loosen his grip before forcing herself to calm down and regain her composure. When she was calm he let go of her and went to retrieve the instrument from the bed where he had laid it.

She was startled when he held the ka'athyra out to her; she timidly accepted the beautiful instrument. She took a seat on the end of the couch and delicately fingered the meticulously carved wood and strummed a few chords. Spock observed the instrument's effect on her. The muscles of her face seemed more relaxed as she played a few notes of an unknown tune.

"Where I'm from, the planet of Vulcan no longer exists," she explained quietly as she trailed her fingers along the strings playing a soft, morose tune. "And Vulcans are beings who possess great knowledge and integrity. Spock is a peaceful, brilliant man…." Her voice quivered as she sat the instrument down, and turned to look at him contemptuously. "What happened to you?" she hissed.

It was Spock's turn to ask questions. He was intrigued by her strong reaction and apparent admiration for the Vulcans she spoke of. "Sit with me," he instructed, moving to take his own seat on the sofa. Nyota hesitated, then decided to sit at the furthest end of the couch. He looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he were trying to find the right words for what he wanted to say. "Were the ancestors of these Vulcans not massacred by humans on their first encounter?" He asked, a note of discomfort tingeing his voice.

She stared at him; everyone knew that Vulcans and humans had a peaceful alliance, and that it was this alliance that began the United Federation of Planets. At least that was the way it had happened in her universe. A wave of confusion swept over her as she tried to comprehend this new world. "In my Universe, Vulcans were welcomed. Their great minds and their culture played an essential role in Earth's development," she explained, feeling a sense of pride as she spoke of her home.

Spock arched his brow sharply. "Fascinating."

Nyota searched his stony countenance, unable to fathom what it was that turned Vulcans away from the diplomatic path they had taken. Talking about her home made it feel closer, as if she were only on a different ship, instead of another dimensional plane. She continued, explaining her world in great detail, of Vulcan's rich history and ultimate demise. She spoke of her crew and their peace-keeping missions, only to find that the ISS Enterprise had the same exact crew, except they were nothing like the people she had come to come to know. And their missions were anything but peaceful. She got so caught up in their conversation that she hardly noticed when they transitioned from Standard to Vulcan.

The conversation was brought to an abrupt end when Spock received a call; he was needed on the bridge. Nyota resisted when he reached for her arm to pull her from the couch. "I do not need to be escorted," she insisted, pushing herself up from the couch. Spock opened the door and watched as she strode back across the foyer to her room. He stopped at the computer station, switching off the flashing intercom. As she leaned against the door waiting for him to let her in she found herself studying him as he moved throughout the room. He held himself stiffly, yet there was a tired, almost sad air about him. He looked much older than he should. As he walked towards her, she noticed a slightly uneven gait, and she could not help but wonder if this image was the man her Spock was to become.

"Nyota, realize that this is a dangerous ship. Perhaps you feel that I treat you unjustly but I assure you that my treatment is far better than what you would receive from anyone else aboard. It is quite likely that you would be dead by now."

Nyota sighed as she entered the room. "I suppose I should thank you then, for holding me in this room, in a solitary prison, with limited food and no form of mental stimulation."

He recognized her tone as sarcasm and allowed the door to slide shut without responding.

She did not know why she had not thought of it before. It was a way for her to gain a tactical advantage. She now realized the way things worked in this new world, the rules she was used to did not apply. It was more than just going along with it; she actually had to act the part, submissive, agreeable, even affectionate if it would help her. He was Vulcan, despite his situation. He was not innately evil. The heritage that made her Spock the man he was still resided in this man; she only had to tap into it. If there was anyone who could get her back it was him. If she could win him over and break through his hard exterior as she had done with the Spock of her world, she might be able to convince him to send her back.

Nyota hoped she would be permitted out of her room the following day, but she was given a meal at lunch time and left alone for the rest of the day. She gratefully received a few more pages of her book over the next three days and was able to keep herself occupied. On the fifth day she received breakfast along with a new clothes and a set of undergarments. She was unaccustomed to the morning meal and found that she could only eat a few bites. She sat aside her plate for later and inspected her new garments curiously; she recognized the bright red fabric immediately. Nyota slipped out of her plain dress and into the tight, reveling uniform that was identical Uhura's, feeling more like she was wearing fancy lingerie than a uniform. She discarded the shiny golden sash and tugged at the tiny top, trying to cover more of her exposed skin. Nyota let out a heavy sigh as she looked down at her bare abdomen; she was practically wasting away on her one meal a day diet.

By lunch time she had finished the remains of her breakfast and had begun braiding her hair. Nyota did not braid her hair often. It was far too long and it was something that she had never been good at. Being here gave her time to practice; there was little else to do. She was surprised at how good she had gotten. She had no comb or brush and her hair tangled much easier now that she was unable to straighten it. Nyota peered into the small mirror that hung above her clothing bin. The small, uneven braids did not look half bad and the first few that hung over her shoulders were actually straight. Nyota finished another row and fastened the rest of her hair into a neat bun. She inspected herself once more, and was reminded of playing dress-up with her sister back in Africa while her parents worked long hours in their offices. She wondered what they were like in this universe, if she would even recognize them if she saw them.


	5. You were warned

You were warned

The Captain was accustomed to new arrivals on the Enterprise; the fact that life was so dispensable meant that new security teams were constantly needed. Women seemed to "appear" on the ship after long battles that left planets barren, or during shore leave. It was no surprise when Spock informed him of the newest arrival, the product of a transformer malfunction. She was not only from another realm but also another time. The fact that Spock intended to keep her made it imperative that she be documented and given an official position on the ship.

Spock completed his shift and retreated to his quarters to prepare Nyota to meet the Captain. She seemed a trite less apt to attempt to escape or attack him. He had not seen her in a couple of days, by now she should be eager for social interaction. It seemed likely that in this condition she would behave amicably. If she were to conduct herself otherwise, she would suffer a stint in the agony booth; he would at least warn her of this. After a small lunch in his room he went to retrieve her.

Nyota looked up suddenly when she heard the familiar tone of the key pad outside her door; she was surprised when Spock entered her room. Her eyes immediately went to the abhorred device in his hand. Its effects were still fresh in her memory, and the sight of it sent chills through her.

He seemed to notice her discomfort. "It is mandatory- the device must be on your person at all times while not confined to these quarters," he explained.

Nyota's eyes darted to his face; _she was going to be out of the quarters?_ She stood as the door closed behind him. His eyes traveled from her bare feet to the thin, long braids that hung loosely over the front of her shoulders.

Spock stepped around her and took the sash from the top of her clothing bin. "This is part of your uniform," he stated, stooping to pull the silky material around her narrow waist. "This will fit here within the folds," he explained, tucking the agonizer into the sash. As he secured the device his finger tips brushed against her cool, smooth skin, and she took in a sharp breath. There was a momentary pause, his eyes rose to hold her slightly startled gaze. He noted her dilated pupils, an indication that she found the sensation pleasing. He was reminded of his own primal desires, and the fact that he was growing tired of waiting for her to "adjust".

Nyota hated how familiar he looked when he arched his brow as he contemplated her. She reminded herself of her mission: survive and escape. He was the only person she had the ability to talk to and felt the need to hear someone else's voice. She had also been painfully reminded how much she missed the physical interactions she had taken for granted. She desperately wanted a hug, a hand shake, anything just to feel, and then he had touched her. It was unintentional and brief, but it had sent a warm spark though her, and she hated herself for finding a certain gratification in that impalpable exchange.

"Where am I going?" she asked with marked irritation, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the previous moments as she slipped on her short boots.

"We are going to meet with the Captain. I have decided that I will not have you executed, since you did not trespass on your own accord and your initial attacks were brought on by fear and imprudence; you were not aware of the customs aboard this ship. Now that you know better, I expect you to behave accordingly and to think before you speak."

The walk down the long corridor was uncomfortable at best. Aside from not having been out of the confines of her room for nearly a month, there were the people. The harsh clunk of boots on the steel floors made her jump as a security unit rushed past her. The sound of orders being barked from one end to another rang in her ears. It was too much. She wanted to retreat to the safe solitude of her room but felt the strong presence behind her moving her forward. They stared, and she could not ignore their prying eyes and sneers. It seemed that everyone knew of her and there was an air of contempt that was unnerving. Then there were the guards, two tall, imposing men followed their every step. The fact that one of them was Vulcan seemed ironic; Vulcans in her world would never lower themselves to the position of personal shield.

When they reached the Captain's quarters, Spock entered first. Nyota stood at the threshold uncertain; she thought to turn and flee but was reminded of the numerous guards that littered the halls. She straightened her stance and stepped inside. The man sitting at the Captain's chair reminded her little of her Captain upon appearance. Then that annoying smirk crossed his face and she could see the resemblance. "Well, Mr. Spock," he chuckled reclining is his chair as he looked her over. "Look at that, she's a mini Uhura, minus the fangs!"

It was an insult, the way he snickered, speaking of her as if she were an inanimate object; it was a clear indication of her status. She stood there after Spock had been seated, and they both watched her. The Captain was obviously amused, and she felt if she were being presented as spoils of war. "I am Lieutenant Uhura, communications officer aboard the USS Enterprise. I have been transported here and am currently being held against my will by your science officer Mr. Spock," Nyota announced, her words flying out in rapid succession as she stood glaring defiantly at the Captain

He stood, smoothed out his shirt, and rounded the desk to stand directly in front of her; she was reminded of the painful device at her waist and felt a pang of regret for having spoken so freely.

"Are you really?" he smirked, leaning back on his desk.

Spock stood and cleared his throat clasping his hands behind his back, his eyes riveted on Nyota. "Captain, she is a xenologist, proficient in far more languages than the Lieutenant of this universe; she is even fluent in classical Vulcan dialect. She could be of use."

Kirk nodded, eyeing her skeptically, "As always, Mr. Spock, I trust your judgment."

She walked in silence as he steered her through the corridors, back to her room, still being escorted by the guards. As they reached the door, Nyota stepped back and glared at Spock. "I am not going back in there," she announced. A sudden frantic look crossed her face as she stumbled further away from him.

"I believe you are." he countered as the guards stepped forward and he waved them away.

Spock keyed in the entrance code and she stepped forward as the doors slid open. She tried to force herself to walk into the suffocating confines that had become her home. It was a useless attempt. She could not willingly return to the solitude and lifeless existence that awaited her. Feeling her eyes brim with tears she turned to face him once more. "Please don't make me," she begged, searching for a fragment of sympathy in his icy glare.

There was an uncomfortable pause while Spock watched Nyota's control shatter once more, and he felt a sudden pang of regret for having been the one to illicit such a response from her. She stared at him in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest as if to steady herself. There was nothing to be gained from negotiating with an unwilling party. He sighed and walked around her and into his office, the guards posted at the open door, and she was left standing in the hallway.

Nyota stood in the doorway, Spock sat at his desk reading a data PADD, the guards stood at attention on either side of her. She looked around suspiciously, unsure if she were being dared to leave or given permission. She took a couple of steps back. No one moved. She turned and began to walk down the corridor. She slowly made her way down the hall and around the corner. Once she was out of sight of the guards, she bolted to the nearest lift. As the doors slid open, two sets of security personal stepped out. She kept her head bowed and tried to enter the lift inconspicuously.

"Just where are you going, little Uhura?" Nyota looked up as the entrance to the lift was blocked by a tall, grinning, dark haired security guard.

"I have been given permission to use the dining facilities," she lied, unable to take her eyes off the long, jagged scar that ran down the side of the man's face. Before he could reply his communicator chirped. Nyota recognized the voice on the other end immediately.

"Mr. Sulu, alert security, the latest addition to our crew- Ms. Nyota is not permitted off the officer's floor at this time."

Nyota heart sank and Sulu complied with the request and leaned his back against the lift, leering at her. "I could assist you," he grinned, reaching out to stroke her bare arm. "Are you interested?" he purred, jerking her arm so that she toppled forward into his arms. Nyota struggled against him as his lips found hers in a harsh, crushing kiss. As the taste of her own blood filled her mouth, she realized he was biting her. She fumbled with her sash, feeling for the agonizer Spock had placed there. Pushing her arm between them she forced the device up against his chest.

The guards pounced on her and as Sulu lay on the ground quivering in pain, she was drug away. She twisted and pulled, unable to free herself from their grip as she was pushed into a small, cylindrical chamber. It was not so bad at first, similar to the effects of the handheld agonizer. After another moment, she felt as if her insides were melting. Heat shot through her and she lurched forward, clutching her burning stomach, then a crushing pain in her back forced her upright once more. Her own shrill cries echoed in her ears as she watched the smiling face of the man she had attacked approach the chamber. There was another surge and suddenly her eyes began to burn and she could no longer scream. She coughed and gagged as gas began to fill the chamber. The torture continued. As another figure approached the chamber, her limbs went limp; she collapsed against the wall of the chamber and sagged to the ground.

When the doors opened, she crawled out on all fours, sputtering and gasping for air. She was immediately hoisted to her feet and draped between two men who drug her down the hall and onto a lift. Her head lolled to the side as she tried to make out the face of one of the men supporting her. "Spock?" she whispered making out the unmistakably Vulcan features of the man at her right.

"I am Senok," the man replied steadying her as she wobbled to the side. They exited the lift and she automatically recognized her destination. The narrow hall that lead to Spock's quarters were directly ahead of her. She slumped forward in defeat as they dragged her to his door.

She was pushed into the room and stumbled to the floor in front of Spock's desk where he sat still engrossed in his PADD. It was as if he had not noticed her arrive. After a few moments she stood as best she could and ambled towards her room. She turned and leaned against the door of her room, remembering that she could not access the room without a code.

"Spock, I need to lie down," she moaned, her body still aching.

He quietly sat the PADD aside and pushed his chair back. There was an awkward pause as he sat there looking down at his desk. He shot her a brief glance as he stood and walked over to his room. Nyota heard the tone of his key pad and the beep of the scanner before the doors slid open. He disappeared into the room and Nyota slouched against her door wondering what he had in store for her insubordination. After a few moments he reappeared and returned to his desk, leaving the door to his room ajar. "You may lie down."

The spicy aroma of incense permeated the darkened room; Nyota sat on the edge of the bed and removed her boots, allowing herself to appreciate the calming fragrance, and the soothing quiet of the room. She slipped under the cool, soft covers still wearing her uniform. She turned her back to the door, which was still open; the light filtering in from the office area hurt her eyes. Still bothered by the glow she pulled the sheets up over her head and exhaled deeply.

It was so difficult, to be in a place where nobody cared about you. A place where your life and death meant very little to a people who used force and brutality on a daily basis. Nothing belonged to her here; they had taken her clothing, her weapons, and her freedom. She was all too aware of the reason she had been sent to the officer's room. Taking was something they were very good at.


	6. What You Will Allow

What you will allow

Spock sat at his desk and reread the official report that had been filed by the engineering department weeks ago. There had been a malfunction when she had been beamed aboard. When they had locked onto the ensign's coordinates, there had been some sort of subspace interference. Duplicate signals had been received, an extremely rare occurrence that had pulled Nyota from another realm, where she had been preparing to transport up to her ship.

Naturally she wanted to go back; it simply was not an option. Then again if it were an option he still would not send her back. As selfish as it was, he felt he could allow himself that much. He sat the PADD down and checked the security log on his computer to read Sulu's report; _assaulting a superior officer_. Of course he knew why she had attacked him, though it was not in the report. Spock recalled Uhura's stint in the brig after she had given Sulu that disfiguring scar when he had cornered her in the recreation room. There was a major difference, however, Uhura had rank, she could protect herself. Nyota was not recognized as a member of the ISS Enterprise and thus had little protection.

She needed to be protected, but she could never understand that. To her, he was an enemy as well. Spock glanced over his shoulder at the open door to his living quarters. He could not allow her actions to go unpunished; it would be an indication of weakness on his part. He considered her, laying in his bed, and felt a moment of remorse.

Spock rationalized his intentions. He had no choice but to mark her now. She had made herself a target and if he did not claim her, she was vulnerable. He had put it off as long as he could.

* * *

Somewhere between being asleep and daydreaming she heard him enter the room. The sound of his heavy boots on the soft carpet roused her completely. She listened to his muted movements throughout the room and remained still. When the room grew even quieter she knew he was near. His presence pervaded the small space of the bedroom. The quiet magnified the subtlest of sounds, the zipper of his boots, the buttons of his shirt, and the metal buckle of his pants.

When he slid into bed beside her she was surprised at how well she maintained her composure. Her heart raced but she didn't dare move or make a sound. Even when she felt the warmth of his body pressed against her back, she managed to keep her calm, not moving, not thinking. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, the heat of his breath tickling her neck, and she stifled a small sob.

"Nyota…" his voice came as a low murmur in her ear as his hand slid down her bare abdomen and untied the sash. "The pain you have felt has been due to your resistance. For your own sake, do not resist me now." The thin slip of material slid out of his hand and onto the floor as he effortlessly rolled her onto her back. She peered up at him, grateful for the darkness that hid his face from her.

As she lay beneath him, it was obvious that she would not put up much of a struggle. She lay limp as he forced her up to pull the uniform top over her head. "Lights twenty-five percent," he commanded, exposing her fully. She closed her eyes. He unfastened the front clasp of her bra and discarded it into the pile of clothing forming beside the bed. Her skin glowed a luscious bronze in the pale light, and his gaze traveled over her slowly, savoring the delicate curves and slopes of her body. Next he located the small clasp on the side of her skirt and unbuttoned it; she stiffened as he pulled the skirt down her legs and threw it aside.

Nyota felt him pry her legs apart and remove her underwear. As if looking would make it less real she kept her eyes closed, trying to distance herself from what was happening. When strong, warm hands cupped her breasts and squeezed the delicately erecting flesh, she cursed her body for responding to his touch. If only he had not turned the lights on- she was so temped to look. His familiar scent mingled with her own and she was reminded once more of her Spock. He enfolded her in his arms, the bristly hair on his face and chest making her recoil as the warmth of his body washed over her. The hardness of his arousal pressed against her and she began to tremble.

She was warm and soft in his arms, almost inviting. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, his warm hand feeling its way down her smooth skin to the soft, moist opening between her legs. He murmured her name softly into her ear as his fingers glided over the sensitive mound. She did not make a sound; he lifted his head and searched her face. Eyes squeezed shut, her bottom lip pierced by her teeth, her breath caught in her throat. He had seen that expression before.

Nyota's heart pounded. When his hand left her body, she felt as if she could breathe again but her relief was short lived. He rose above her and pushed her legs farther apart. For a moment he just looked at her. She felt his eyes on her and refused to look at him, to watch it happen. He lurched inside her in a sudden, painful thrust, and a soft whimper escaped her throat as she clutched the sheets. She tried to scoot back, away from him but he was much too strong. Something caught her. It was so familiar, _Spock,_ he smelled just like him, and moved with that same passionate, forbidden need_. It's not him,_ she told herself trying to force the thought of her Spock out of her mind.

Her body betrayed her as her hips rose to meet his eager thrusts as if by their own will. Her cries echoed through the room; it was her, but it wasn't. There was an odd feeling of disconnect; as if her body were not her own. Her eyes fluttered open bringing her back to reality as her eyes locked with his hypnotic glare. "No," she choked out, fighting hopelessly to squirm out from under him as the dark brown depths of his eyes seemed to pull her in. He seized her by the arms and forced her still as he continued to draw her in.

He was becoming frustrated. She moved around too much. As he nuzzled her neck searching for the right place to mark her, she twisted and bucked and he lost his place. He had tried to calm her, through a mild suggestive link. When she relaxed, her conscious became inundated with a suppressed longing that her body responded to. He could not concentrate as her hands glided over his shoulders and down his back. He was too distracted to concentrate on marking her. Both could not be accomplished - he could not quiet her and mark her at the same time. She had such a strong physical reaction to his psychological implications that he gave up the branding task altogether.

Her lips parted to plead with him but she was unable to form the words. She tried again to shove him off but when she lifted her hands to his shoulders they just rested lightly on his skin, unable to apply any force. She began to think of _him _again; she saw herself making love to her Spock, here, in this strange room. She tried to force the image out of her mind as her body responded to the fantasy, her nails digging into his shoulders as he sank into her.

His hands drifted over her slick skin, he wanted more. If she would let herself, she could fulfill her need and forge her useless fantasies. Her soft mewling inflamed him as he buried himself in her warmth. She was so different - young and tight. She squeezed around him and drew him deeper. She was so beautiful, and she belonged to him. She cried out as he pounded into her, thrusting her against the head board. As his name slipped from her lips it sent him over the edge filling her with his ecstasy.

The strong musky scent that hung in the air made her stomach turn as he collapsed on top of her and her delusions quickly faded. She was sure she would vomit. Thankfully he commanded the lights off and after a few moments she felt him leave her. Nyota breathed a sigh of relief- it was over. He went to the lavatory and she curled up under the sheets. It was not as bad as it could have been; she concentrated on that aspect of it. But _something _had happened; there was no word for the feeling that had encompassed her as she lay pinned beneath him.

She could not dwell on it, not now anyway. All she wanted was to shower and to be as far away from him as possible. Wrapping herself in one of the sheets, she went to the door which was locked as usual. She turned and looked back at the rumpled bed sheets and pillows tossed about; piles of clothes littered the floor. Feeling a sharp headache come on, she made her way to the long couch and curled up in the corner, tucking the sheet around her.

Spock stood under the pulsing stream of hot water and reflected on his previous actions; he replayed them in his mind and carefully analyzed them. He had not accomplished the task he had sat out to complete; he had been too distracted. The physical pleasure of her soft, yielding warmth was strangely comforting. Psychologically, however, it had been quite disturbing. As the delicious warmth of her had surged through him so had the overwhelmingly contradictive emotions she projected. He had been successful in calming her for a time but it had been more awkward than he had anticipated it to be, especially at the end; he had had to concentrate most of his attention on blocking her displeasure.

Even more troubling was how he had felt; there was that _regret_, just as he had felt when she had broken down in the hallway. There was always that feeling. He knew that its roots lay in his Vulcan heritage, but it was his human heritage that made it so difficult to ignore at times. It was not easy, but he accepted that his conscience would never be at peace because of the things he had to do. He expected Nyota to eventually accept her existence as he had accepted his own; there was no other option for her.

After his shower, he sent her back to her room; for once she was grateful for the solitude. She showered, hardly feeling the sonic pulses, or the relaxing effect that it usually had. Throwing her obscene uniform on top of the clothing bin, she donned one of her soft, light dresses and climbed into bed. For over an hour she lay there trying to block out what had just happened. After another hour passed she took another shower, painfully scrubbing her skin in an attempt to erase the scent and feel of him from her body.

_I am alright_ she told herself; aside from the familiar rawness between her legs he had caused her no real damage, not physically anyway. She still felt slightly jittery from the agony booth but its effect seemed to be wearing off.

Nyota knew she should have been filled with hate for the man who had just violated her but she could not hate him and that repulsed her. For nearly a month he was the only human contact she had. The more she looked at him, and considered his life in relation to the one he should have had, it became clear to her that he was Spock. The same man that she knew except he had been born into a world where he had coped with a turbulent, repressive society by conforming to their ways.

To be the man that he was now went against his nature - he must know that. As she tried in vain to sleep that night, it dawned on her exactly what she felt for him and for herself; it was an overwhelming sense of pity that they were both living outside of the world that they belonged in. She would not become someone else in order to survive. It may very well mean the death of her, but she would not become one of them.


	7. The Facts

The Facts

When Nyota awoke the next morning from a restless night's sleep, there was no confusion, or sadness, everything just _was_. Nothing could be changed now. She was exactly where she had been for the past month. It was all real and tangible now. She went to the lavatory and freshened up, and when she returned she sat on her bed and took down her hair and undid the rows of braids. Looking at herself in the mirror, she could see the physical effects of her time in captivity; her long wavy tresses were dry and brittle, her eyes were dark, and she looked tired, thin, and pale. She returned to her bed and sank under the covers.

When the entrance code was entered, Nyota did not move. It was probably her daily meal and though she hoped Kutav would leave her more pages to read, she did not want to look at him, or anyone else for that matter. There was the sound of the doors sliding open, the tray being sat on the desk and Kutav's hasty retreat. As the doors closed she felt a presence still in the room; _a guard?_ she wondered trying to remain still as she caught the sound of heavy boots moving across the floor.

"Will you not eat the meal I have had sent to you, Nyota?"

She sat up and pushed her sheets aside, and her eyes traveled up his tall, slender frame as he stood directly in front of her. Her eyes came to rest on his face, calm and stoic as he looked down at her.

"I am not hungry," she managed to whisper, feeling a sudden rage begin to take over as the memories of what he had done flooded her mind. Why was he here anyway? Nyota forced her anger aside as she stood, fist clinched at her sides.

"You…hypnotized me?" she hissed peering up into his dark magnetic glare, feeling that undeniable draw that she had succumbed to the night before.

"It was more of a suggestion, than hypnosis," he corrected turning from her and walking over to the desk. Nyota stood on the other side of the bed watching him as he pried the lid off her dish and inspected its contents. "I thought it would make it easier for you… you were quite panicked though you at least attempted to comply," he explained still examining the runny white substance in the bowl.

Nyota felt a rush of mortification as she realized what had happened. "You invaded my mind?" The words came out as a chocked sob as she sat back on the bed unable to look at him. It was somehow worse than the physical assault.

"You must learn to accept things as they happen. Lamenting your losses will do nothing for you. Eat, dress in your uniform, and join me in my office."

Nyota stared after him as he strode out the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Just like that, she was ordered to forget about what had happened, to accept it and move on. She looked out the open door to where he sat at his desk with several PADDs arranged before him. She was intrigued. Maybe she would be given something to read - she had earned that much. She swallowed a few spoonfuls of creamed rice and ate some of the cubed fruit before quickly dressing in the bright red uniform. She examined herself in it again and again threw the gold sash aside; it looked more like a uniform without that silly piece of fabric.

She walked over to the chair across from his desk; there was a long silence as he entered something into his computer. Nyota waited, restlessly fiddling with a tangle in her hair. She watched as his fingers glided over the touch pad with a graceful efficiency. His nails were clean, neatly trimmed, and had an odd sheen to them. She found herself staring and had not noticed that he was no longer occupied by the computer. When he cleared his throat and her eyes darted up to his slightly amused expression, she felt herself grow warm with embarrassment under his glare.

A PADD was placed in front of her and she shrugged off her discomfort. She quickly skimmed over the short paragraphs he watched her. Confused, she reread the report twice over before sitting up and giving Spock a questioning glance. "What does it mean?" she read the last phrase aloud: "permanent displacement?" She stared up at him wide eyed, waiting for a response. She knew what the phrase meant, of course, but it could not possibly be right. If she had come aboard this ship from an alternate universe, surely she could be sent back the same way she came.

Spock was uncomfortable to say the least. He knew she would likely cry, or have some other type of emotional outburst. Besides it was pointless to tell her what she already knew - her disbelief did not make it any less true. "Nyota…" His voice came out rougher, harsher than he had intended. He paused and began again. "Nyota You will be staying here. There is no way for us to return you. The error occurred from your dimension; we have no way of transporting you back to the exact dimension that you came from. If it is any consolation, I had no intention of returning you even if it were possible."

She had been warned of being stranded on harsh, empty planets, of being captured by ruthless warlords. There were many dangers one risked when joining Starfleet. She had always felt that her position as communications officer provided her some degree of safety. At any rate their missions were peaceful ones, and when hostility was met she was not usually involved. She repeated the phrase over to herself _permanent…displacement_; it just did not seem real. What did it mean to be stuck here? Did she even want to live if this was going to be her life? Nyota was brought from her reverie when the door chimed.

"Spock here," he answered, pushing the intercom button on the desk.

"Lieutenant Uhura, sir," the woman cooed through the speaker.

Spock's eyes darted to Nyota who sat motionless, still quite affected by what he had just told her. He checked the time; Uhura was an hour earlier than she normally was. "You are early, Lieutenant," he answered, shutting down his computer.

"Yes, and I am not here to have a conversation with you through the door," she replied in irritation. Spock placed his palm on the security scanner and the door slid open. Uhura sauntered into the room and came to stand beside Nyota's seat; the strong floral scent that clung to her skin saturated the room. "I hope you are not too busy," she murmured, untying the golden sash from around her waist.

Spock looked at the two women before him. Nyota - quietly sitting, her blank stare echoing her sadness, and it was bothersome. As he looked at her he felt the urge to somehow rid her of her desolation, if only to remove his own discomfort. Then there was Uhura; standing, exuding strength and sensuality. He watched her toy with the scarp of material, moving is suggestively through the ring made by her thumb and forefinger. He had the urge to tie her up with that sash and punish her for arriving unannounced.

"Uhura, wait for me in my room. I will be with you momentarily," he breathed hoarsely as he stacked the PADDs on his desk. He watched her slink over to the door and enter her code.

As she stepped into the room, she shot him a devious little smile. "Don't make me finish without you," she whispered entering the room. After the door slid shut Spock turned his attention back to Nyota.

She looked down at her hands, absently fighting with the hem of her skirt. She had not acknowledged Uhura or her exchange with Spock; it was as if she were not even there. Spock looked through the PADDs that he had had sent down from the communications lab. At least he could keep her occupied. He pushed a few of them over to her and she looked up; her large brown eyes filled with tears.

"Translate these. I suggest that you finish your breakfast. You seem to have lost quite a bit of weight. I will have a nutritional supplement sent to you with your next meal." He stood and dismissed her to her room; she gathered the PAADs and hurried away.

The following night Nyota lay awake late, restless and unable concentrate enough to translate the PADDs she had been given. When she heard the loud thud against her door, she sighed and rolled over. _Not again,_ she thought throwing a pillow over her head. It was quite obvious that Uhura derived some sick pleasure from making sure Nyota knew exactly what they were doing.

Somehow it was different now, having to think of them together after what she had experienced. It had all been so pointless and illogical at best. He had not needed to control her; he had already demonstrated his powerful position and ability. It surely wasn't lust that had motivated him; he had that taken care of and _she_ obviously liked being with him.

It did not matter why or even how she had found herself in such a predicament. What did matter was her next step; to continue this way, or to fight and lose, and at least be free in her certain demise. Nyota's train of thought was interrupted by another, louder thump against the door.

Nyota waited for the muffled shrieks and giggles that normally followed. There was silence. This was odd. She jumped at the sudden sound of something heavy smashing into the wall outside her room. Her dinner tray slid off the desk and fell to the floor, scattering the remains of her salad. Flinging the pillow aside she sat up quietly, slowly, listening. Putting one foot on the floor, she was sure she felt a subtle vibration that she had not felt before. She recalled then that she had not actually heard Uhura or Spock at all that evening. Cautiously making her way over to the door she pressed her ear against it and listened; nothing.

Nyota paced the room nervously, she knew something was wrong, the only time she had felt shocks like this was during a battle simulation back at the academy. She paused as the thought crossed her mind… they were under attack. Nyota grabbed a hold of one of the shelving units to steady herself just as the entire vessel seemed to tilt to one side.

The lights flickered and dimmed. Nyota held her breath; waiting. A shrill siren resounded through the room; the ship was on red alert and she was trapped.


	8. Condition red

Condition: Red

"Captain I am receiving a message from the Shaltasian craft; audio only but it's garbled… I don't understand…" Uhura swiveled her chair around. He stood bracing himself against his chair for another strike, his eyes narrowed as he returned her glare.

"Lieutenant our shields have been disabled! The transporter has been disabled! We can't even contact another empire ship for backup! Are you telling me that you can't do your job?" the red-faced Captain screamed stumbling over to the communications console. "Replay the message," he demanded hovering over her.

Uhura replayed the short, distorted message, "I ran it through the translator, and it is unidentified… I can only assume -"

"I don't want your assumptions," the Captain retorted before stalking over to the science officer's station. "Spock, the inhabitants of Shaltas 4 were destroyed months ago. Can you explain to me how it is possible that there are Shaltasians now on a ship which our scanners did not pick up on until they had blown out our defense systems?"

Spock rose from his station and turned to the Captain, "It would be logical to assume that they have some sort of device which made them invisible to our sensors. It would also be logical to assume that while their planet was rendered inhospitable, there must have been Shaltasians that were off planet at the time of our attack."

Spock waited for the Captain to digest his prognosis.

"You saw their planet, those creatures… they lived caves and ate with their feet. How the hell could they have a ship? They didn't even have computers."

"Perhaps if we understood what they were saying…" Spock glanced over at Uhura who sat still trying to clarify the incoming message. Suddenly it dawned on him. "Captain, might I offer a suggestion?"

Nyota calmly made her way across her room, holding on to a shelf or chair for balance as the attack continued. She reached her bed and dropped to the floor, _where was that fork?_ She peered under the bed and fished for the small object. It was not there. For another fifteen minutes she crawled around searching the small dimly lit room for something that might be if use.

Wedging her fingers between the desk and the wall she found it. Wiping the remains of salad dressing on the end of her dress she scooted over to the door just as another shot knocked her against it. As she attempted to pry the doors open with the fork her mind began to race. She had to figure out the exit code. She flung the useless bent fork aside and turned her attention to the keypad; it was her only hope.

Mathematic formulas seemed appropriate based on the perfectly mathematical Vulcan mind that programmed the lock. Nyota sat on the floor for what seemed like an eternity calculating laws and formulas that never worked. Just as she entered in another random combination she heard one of the outer doors swish open; she froze. _What if the ship has been hijacked? _ she wondered to herself as she heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching her door. Nyota stepped back and waited.

She breathed a brief sigh of relief when she heard the sound of the keypad outside her door, It was Spock. The doors slid open and that sick, uneasy felling his presence often induced washed over her. As he entered the room, his eyes quickly swept over the disarrayed room before his gaze steeled on her. "Are you familiar with the language of the Shaltasians?" he asked abruptly.

Nyota stared at him in confusion; _what did that have to do with anything?_

"Well?" he prodded impatiently as the vessel absorbed another shot.

Nyota gripped the edge of the desk as she stumbled forward "I was only on Shaltas for a few weeks. I came to understand their tonal implications and some of their more basic words and phrases but -"

"That will have to suffice," he broke in, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her out of the room. Too startled to resist Nyota had to run to avoid being dragged out of the quarters. Nyota was met with the strong odor of melted plastic once she was out of the room. Coughing she kept her head down in an attempt to avoid inhaling the smoke that hung around them. The blaring red lights of the emergency system hurt her eyes and she was thankful when they finally reached the lift. "What's going on? Where are you taking me?" she sputtered once they were inside a lift.

"You are needed on the bridge," he stated leaning over her to press his fingers to the identification pad on the opposite side of the lift. Nyota stared at him in confusion as the lift began to move.

Nyota exited the lift after Spock and followed him over to the communications console. Spock ordered Uhura to play the message once more. Uhura looked up at him and Nyota and with an irritated sigh before she played the message. "It is too distorted," Uhura insisted after the message had run its course.

Nyota looked down at the woman. She had never been one to keep quiet even when it benefited her, and as she stood beside Spock glaring down at her counterpart she found herself saying something that would win her a new enemy. "You're wrong," she stated matter-of-factly. Her eyes locked with the glowering Uhura who shot up from her seat. Nyota stepped back defensively, "That message is perfectly clear; the language of the Shaltasian's is comprised of several clicks and rapid hisses that can sound like static." She quickly explained to the Captain who had appeared behind Uhura.

"Well what the hell are they saying?" the Captain yelled looking from one woman to the other.

Nyota pushed past Uhura and took over the communications consol. "I will need to use your computing system if I am expected to decipher the message," she explained feeling a definite sense of superiority.

Nyota clipped on the earpiece and replayed the message in a lower frequency. She immediately detected anger in the Shaltasian's speech. She stopped the recording and played it again. The words _rebuild_ and _Shaltas_ were discernable after closer examination. Nyota repeated the message once more before concluding that she had translated as much as she could. She turned to face Spock as another shot from the relentless Shaltasian ship was fired.

The Captain ran to radio the head of engineering. "Scott, how much longer can the ship sustain this?"

"I giver 'er about 15 minutes at the most sir," came the voice over the Intercom.

Nyota swiveled around and hailed the Shaltasian ship. "Shaltasians - may the heavens benevolence rain down on you." She greeted the Shaltasian's in their native tongue. "Halt attack please," she managed in broken Shaltese.

After a few moments of silence they replied, "short time."

She turned to Spock once more. "Rebuild Shaltas... That is all I can make out."

Spock considered this momentarily before turning to the Captain.

"Captain, I believe they will destroy the ship if we do not offer some sort of compromise. When we extracted the vast supply of dilithium from Shaltas we made it uninhabitable. Though primitive, it appears that they indeed possessed space flight capabilities. If Shaltas is to be rebuilt, they will need to have their dilithium levels restored."

It was apparently not what the Captain wanted to hear. He glared at his first officer with an unmistakable look of disgust. "I don't care about what they want! The dilithium belongs to the Empire, Shaltas belongs to the Empire!" he shirked stalking over to the communications console.

"Evidently the Shaltasian's are not aware of this fact," Spock offered calmly.

"Damned savages… I want that device whatever it is; imagine what we could do with that type of technology, that type of power. Maybe we could make some sort of compromise…" Kirk mused.

"Attacks will resume in…well I can't be sure… but I assume there's not much time," Nyota explained removing her earpiece.

The captain received another message from engineering, the transporter was functioning again. He looked around the bridge anxiously. "Mr. Spock, come with me," he ordered running to the lift.

Nyota watched the men leave, and a deadly silence fell over the room. Nyota looked down at the console, pretending to be absorbed in listening to the Shaltasian message again. Lt. Uhura, who had been standing on the other side of the console seethed as she watched her.

When the doors of the bridge slid open again, a tall, older man walked out and took the captain's seat. "The Shaltasian ship is still locked onto us and our defenses are still out, but the captain and Mr. Spock have successfully beamed aboard the enemy ship. We've been ordered to maintain orbit around Tri-Taras, Mr. Sulu." Nyota noted the thick Scottish accent; _he must be Scotty,_ she thought turning back to the console. He was a stranger too in this world.

Nyota looked over at Uhura who had become quite agitated, "Get. Up," she growled, shoving Nyota out of the seat. Nyota stumbled but quickly regained her footing. She looked around the bridge. Everyone else was busily working at their stations, and she felt awkwardly useless standing there. What was she suppose to do now? With a sigh she sank into the vacant chair at the science station.

After a few moments Uhura turned to Scott; they were being hailed by the Shaltasians, audio and video were being transmitted. After a brief interval of static the image of Spock and the Captain flickered onto the screen. Spock stood next to Kirk; they both had their hands behind their backs. They were tied up. A tall, willowy figure came into the view of the screen and bowed slightly. He was a Shaltasian "Stisis…I… am… called," he managed in forced standard.

Scotty stood from the command seat and approached the screen. "How did they… well… I just beamed them over a few minutes ago."

"The one who speaks?" Stisis asked looking about the crew.

Nyota stood from her seat cautiously and approached the screen. "I am the one," she replied in Shaltese.

Stisis smiled broadly and greeted her with the traditional Shaltasian greeting before attempting to explain that the captain and the 'points on ears one' will not be returned to their ship until the Enterprise returned to Shaltas. Upon returning to Shaltas they were to restore the life sustaining substance; dilithium. Once stable levels were restored, the planet would be livable once more and they could begin to rebuild their species. If the crew failed to comply in a timely manner both hostages would be killed and the Enterprise and her crew would face the same fate.

The conversation took almost an hour to decipher, with Nyota using broken Shaltese and Stisis attempting bits of standard. When the image of the Shaltasian flickered off the screen, Nyota looked down at the PADD she had been taking notes on and handed to Mr. Scott. "You encountered an undocumented species that could not communicate with you and mined every ounce of dilithum from their planet. And you knew they would die without it. What kind of people are you?" Nyota hissed in disgust before treading back to her seat.

"Lay in a course for Shaltas 4. Once defense systems are restored, we'll take em' out. We may be able to retrieve the Captain and Mr. Spock. If we are unsuccessful…everyone moves up in rank."

Scott walked over to where Nyota sat and gave her an amused smirk, "What kind of people are we? For one thing we don't make a habit of negotiating with savages. Senok, take the lass to Mr. Spock's quarters, confine her there until Mr. Spock returns, or until other arrangements can be made."


	9. Time Off

Time off

A/N: please review!

Back in her room Nyota felt more restless than usual. She had been on the bridge, doing what she loved and to be back in that stuffy little room was nearly unbearable. Then there was the fear. What if Spock did not return? Scott had said that they would make other arrangements, meaning she would be passed on to someone else. Though he was by no means a kind or upright individual, she had a feeling Spock was probably better than most men aboard the Enterprise.

Forced to look at things from this perspective, she had to ask herself what it would mean if he did not return. Nobody here cared about her. He did not care about her, but he did desire her, which gave her some value to him. He had noticed her weight loss and decided that she would have more food and extra care. But he had been the reason for her malnutrition in the first place.

He provided her with food, clothing, and a place to sleep. He really was not required to give her any of this. She decided that things could be much worse. Still, she could not forget nor forgive the assault. She had not resisted, but only because she knew the consequences. He was not too rough but only because he had used her own feelings against her in order to subdue her.

She had seen the world outside the confines of Spock's quarters and only lasted a few minutes before she was put into the booth. She had not tried to escape again after that torture. Things were much worse out there, and if he did not come back she would have to face that world. It was a frightening aspect and one that she decided to push out of her mind until she absolutely had to deal with it.

When Kutav brought her dinner that evening he was alone for the first time. He looked exhausted as he staggered in with the heavy tray. Nyota greeted him with a smile and took the tray from him. "With all the commotion going on, you still bring me my meals?" The short man smiled politely and turned to leave. "He's not here. Why don't you say anything? What are you afraid of?" Nyota asked, trying to coax him into a conversation. He looked down at his feet and shifted uneasily. Nyota stooped so that she was on eye-level with him. "I am sorry."

He opened his mouth as if her were going to speak but nothing came out. Nyota suppressed her immediate reaction of shock and disgust when she noticed that there was a short fleshy nub where there should have been a tongue. Why had she not noticed before? He was incapable of speech; his tongue had been almost completely removed. "Spock did this?" She asked in disbelief. Kutav nodded his head slowly. Nyota stood and went to her desk to retriever one of the PADDs she had been translating. "Can you explain?" she asked handing it to him.

Kutav cautiously took the PADD and quickly scribbled a short message on it. The small devise on his hip chirped and he bowed quickly handing the PADD back to her as he hurried out of the room. Nyota shook her head and looked down at the PADD in her hand. The crude scribbles were hardly legible but she was able to make out the short note:

_The punishment for those who talk too much._

As the days wore on Nyota could not help but wonder what had happened to the Captain and Spock. Spock had not returned, and she had not been moved to another room. Perhaps they were still en route to Shaltas. For the first time since she had arrived on the ISS Enterprise, Nyota felt somewhat relaxed. Sure it could all change at any moment, they could come under attach again or she could be taken to someone else's quarters. For now though things were a little stable. Spock was not there to bother her and Kutav had begun to communicate with her more freely using one of the PADDs she had cleared.

As it turned out Kutav, whose name was actually Thisben, had stowed away on the Enterprise when it had docked for repairs several years ago. When he had been found hiding in engineering, the captain decided he would be kept as a servant of the crew. He considered himself lucky since his only other option was death.

Whenever he arrived alone, Thisben let Nyota out of her room and into the office area where she was able to browse the shelves of books and stretch out a bit. She had tried to access the computer station but found that it had a touch screen for user verification. She took a few small books back to her room to read for later.

High on one of the shelves in his office she found a small, dusty oil lamp. It was Identical to the one Spock kept in their quarters for meditation. The thick bronze lamp was decorated with intricately carved glyphs that wrapped around the base and spiraled to the spout. It was a beautiful work of art, but it had no functional use here. It was just as out of place as she was. Feeling a sort of affinity for the displaced object, she took it, hoping it would go unmissed.

In addition to the new reading material she decided to keep a journal on the other PADD she had been translating on. She decided she would document her experience. She wrote of her first frightening days aboard the ship and the strange counterparts that were nothing like the people she knew. She wrote of her Spock, and how much being here with his strange doppelganger made her miss him all the more. Those were the hardest parts to write.

Spock. She wondered how things must be for him now. Her lover and friend, who had lost so much in the past, had lost her as well. She had tried not to think of his loss, and the pain it must have caused him. His life had just begun to settle again. The pain from the loss of Vulcan and his mother had become a dull ache that only troubled him on rare occasions. And when those ghosts made their presence known she was there for comfort and support. Now she was the cause of his pain, and the guilt she felt was immeasurable.

They would have to carry out the standard procedures. She would be classified as missing in action. Her family would be notified. She could not bear to think of their reaction to the news. She could not help but wonder if she had inadvertently caused the situation. Had she done something wrong when transporting up to the ship that had caused this 'permanent displacement'? She replayed the events over and over again; she had done everything right.

Just when she thought she had come to terms with her predicament, reality always seemed to catch up with her. It always happened when she had been alone too long; too much time to think. After her initial reaction to the reminders of her reality it had been nice to sit and talk with Spock the first time he had taken her to his room. He had seemed almost friendly then, telling her about his life, the ship, speaking in Vulcan. It hardly seemed like the same man who had forced himself on her only a few nights ago. Nor had he seemed like to type to cut out a man's tongue for talking too much. But he was that man and if he was capable of torture and rape he could be capable of much greater evils.

Nyota lay sprawled out on the bed one afternoon having fallen asleep reading one of the thick books she had taken from Spock's office. When Thisben entered the room he shook her frantically. She sat up startled by the sudden intrusion. "What's going on?" she murmured looking around the room. Thisben quickly handed her the PADD she kept on her desk and rushed out of the room. He was always in such a hurry she thought; it was a shame how hard they worked him.

With a sigh she brushed back a frizzy lock of hair squinting at the PADD:

_Dilithum returned to Shaltas, the plant is habitable. Crews are beaming down to Shaltas for armed battle against Shaltasians_.

Nyota stared at the small screen; they had returned the dilithum only to lure the Shaltasians onto the planet so that they could use their strength and numbers against them. The last of the species would be eradicated for the greed of this 'Empire'.

He would return soon. Nyota sighed as she pushed the PADD under her pillow and went about the task of securing her pilfered goods. An executive PADD with computing capabilities that she had not been able to activate and a rare Vulcan text written in the ancient form were wrapped in one of her thin dresses and tucked into the bottom of the clothing bin. She hid the lamp on the floor between her bed and the counter.

Her dinner came and Thisben was once again accompanied by the guards. There was no sign of Spock but she could sense a change in Thisben's demeanor. That night she couldn't sleep. Every time she began to nod off, she kept thinking that she heard someone trying to key in to her room. She wasn't afraid of him coming; she had prepared herself for that. It was the fear of him sneaking up on her, jolting her from sleep, when she was completely vulnerable.

The waiting became difficult; she just wanted to get it over with. She worried that the battle would make him less merciful in his treatment of her. There was the possibility that it would reinforce his notion that in order to remain in control he would have to consistently demonstrate his power.

Three days after she had been informed of the combat situation, Thisben arrived with her lunch, and there were two new guards with him. Unlike the others they spoke freely and did not seem to care that she could hear their conversation.

"Hey Raj what happened to Mr. Spock anyway?" the younger guard asked as they stood at the entrance of her room. Thisben kept his eyes averted as he sat the tray on the desk and slowly collected her breakfast dishes. "Are you kidding? A disrupter shot grazed his head; he doesn't stand a chance, even for a Vulcan." Raj smirked. Though she listened intently Nyota did not react, she examined her tray idly as her mind raced.


	10. Healing

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! Please keep them coming.

I wanted to show things from Uhura's perspective and give a little more insight into who she was. We will get back to Nyota in the next chapter.

Healing

Uhura finished her shift and quickly made her way on to the lift and down to the main living quarters. The corridors were crowded with crew members rushing to the newly vacant rooms. She stopped by Ensign Troy's room and picked up a few holos and the rare Ressikan flute she had been eyeing. As she headed down the hall to her room she was nearly knocked over by the tall, skinny brunette that came sprinting down the hallway. She turned on her heal ready for a.

"Going to pretend you didn't see me Marlena?" Uhura snipped as the woman continued down the hall.

"I'm sorry, the Captain is about to wake up, I wanted to be there." she called back apologetically.

"Well," Uhura huffed giving a fleeting thought to Spock who still lay unresponsive in sickbay. She sighed as she entered the code to her room. Their relationship was complicated; she was not the love-struck, overly-sentimental type that Marlena was. At any rate, that was Nyota's job now, instead of being a smart-ass twit who had the nerve to try and embarrass her on the bridge. She should have let them execute her when she had the chance; she was more trouble than she was worth.

Uhura stripped out of her uniform and placed it on its stand in the closet. She had not moved from her station for twelve hours, her back ached from sitting in that uncomfortable plastic chair. After a long hot shower she rolled her hair and prepared for bed. She pulled on one of the soft silk tunics he had bought her on their last shore leave. Even if she did feel that way about him, it was unacceptable, it was weakness. No. It was better this way; and she would never have to worry about losing him if he never belonged to her.

The bed was warm and inviting. Her communicator and short dagger lay on the stand by her bed and the tension began to slip away. She should have been able to sleep. But as an hour dragged by and then another, she found sleeping impossible. After changing her mind twice, she decided that maybe she would go take a peek at him. That durable Vulcan physique was nearly indestructible; a clumsy, disrupter wielding ensign couldn't do him in. Uhura pulled a pair of cotton pants out of her drawer and slipped on a long thick robe. She picked up her communicator and stuffed her dagger into the pocket of her robe, and headed to the sickbay.

The halls were nearly deserted now except for a handful of security personal and guards posted throughout. Uhura quickly made her way down the hall and into the lift. Sickbay was full of patients; she wandered through the emergency unit where many security members endured the agony of amputations that would leave them useless. The ones who survived the sedation-free procedures would be left at a base the following day where they would be able to go home once family members came to claim them.

Outside the immediate care unit the shrieks and wails dulled to a faint echo. Uhura turned down the short hall that led to the secured officers' unit. The tall Vulcan security guard that stood at the door at the end of the hall gave a curt nod as she approached.

"Curiosity got the best of me," she quipped, entering the room.

His room was eerily quiet, save for the muted hum of the monitors that recorded his vital signs. A faint draft ruffled the crisp white curtains that concealed his bio-bed, and the room was too cool. Uhura adjusted the temperature on the pad by the door before making her way over to the head of the bed. She cautiously pulled the curtain aside.

He didn't look as bad she had imagined he might. There was a thick white bandage around his head where a few emerald splotches had seeped through. He looked paler than normal; his long, dark lashes were stark against his pallid skin. His lips were just as colorless and they were dry, drawn tightly together. He was in pain. It occurred to her then that though their relationship was a mostly physical one he had never kissed her.

She lay her hand flat against the empty space on the bed, careful not to touch his hand. He was restrained; in case he was disoriented when he woke. _If_ he woke, that is. Uhura looked over at the monitor; there was a faint pulse and his heart rate was dangerously low. He didn't even look like he was breathing. She felt the need to say something, anything. Just in case. She always felt that way when things like this happened and as always she said nothing. She just stood there, watching the screen, occasionally glancing down at the strong, handsome face she knew so well.

She checked the time. She had been there nearly half an hour and she did have an early shift the next morning. After another few minutes she turned and left the medical ward, stopping by the nurses' station to purchase a packet sleep inducing tablets.

"This is the third time this month," Chapel teased as she filled the packets.

"So it is," Uhura retorted entering in her account code.

"I picked up something much better on Decose a few weeks ago," the nurse smiled slyly.

Uhura stuffed the packets in her pocket. "Maybe next time then," she replied, turning to leave for her quarters.

Hakau; heal. It was a simple command his brain automatically transmitted to his body. The broken rib repaired easily, as did the fractured fibula. Bones were relatively easy to mend. It was the injuries that lead to his broken bones that were still in a critical stage of restoration. He had crouched low to the ground with his disrupter pointed at the Shaltasian chief 7.35 meters away who was attempting to crawl into one of the caves. There was something about the retreating figure that gave him pause as he lifted his weapon. It may have been the cat –like grace with which she moved as she sped towards the cave entrance. Perhaps it was that primitive look of fear in her the large brown eyes that most beings seemed to exhibit when they were at their end. Spock stood, still aiming the disrupter, his eyes locked on his target.

Suddenly everything went black. There was a flash of light and he fell, slamming into a large heavy bolder. He did not feel the pain in his rib or leg, the pain in his head was insurmountable. Blindly he reached up and felt the warm, sticky fluid that gushed from an open would and ran down into his eyes. His finger lingered there; he felt bone, then a soft spongy matter. He heard hurried footsteps approach him and he attempted to stumble to his feet, unsure of the assailant. Using the rock for support, he managed to stand, swaying shakily and still unable to see. He felt dizzy and as if he were hovering in mid air. Someone took him by the arm just as he lost his balance and blacked out.

The Shaltasians had been aided by an unknown militia who had supplied them with a ship and advanced weaponry. They also knew the area and though they were outnumbered they had that advantage. There were many casualties and injuries. Unless one was an officer, medical care was shoddy and if the pain did not kill the wounded, the general consensus was that it would make them tougher, more resilient warriors. Spock was not a warrior; he was the loyal first officer of the Enterprise. Loyalty was something that rarely existed within the terrain Empire. The Captain valued Spock's loyalty and thus the appropriate measures were taken to insure his survival.

Spock's survival this time was out of the control of the doctor. Even with this knowledge, Dr. McCoy had been ordered to save the Vulcan's life or face his own death. The doctor made sure that Spock was comfortable and that he had a Vulcan guard keeping an eye on him at all times. He was alive but just barely, and as his body worked to repair itself, time began to run out. Spock could not eat or drink in the healing trance. Nutrition could not be administered intravenously because his body would not allow him to absorb anything. His mind was continuously awake yet he could neither move nor speak. His heart rate dropped daily. After two weeks it became clear that if he did not come out of the trance soon he would die. Unable to absorb the vital nutrients his body needed it would soon began to shut down.

The brain was a complex organ, especially when it was Vulcan. Spock was in a fog of lifelessness and confusion while his skull was healing and the severed neural pathways were reordering themselves. After the first two weeks, he regained his hearing. Though he had been aware of vague sounds before he had not been able to decipher them. Now the footsteps in the hall reminded him of where he was. The Doctor checked in on him twice a day. McCoy quietly prattled on about the peculiar medical practices of the Vulcans and never stayed longer than necessary. Other than the doctor, no one came. Even the guard outside the door never ventured inside.

It was still difficult to focus on any one thought and he felt himself slip in and out of consciousness now and then. His whole body ached; he had been lying in the same position for weeks, not able to move. He longed to stretch, to sit up, to do anything but continue to lay there paralyzed and dead to the world around him. He focused all his attention on forcing his body to respond to his mental commands to move.

After two weeks, four days, and eighteen hours in a completely comatose state, he uncurled his tightly clinched fist and slowly rested his hands flat on the bed. His heart rate jumped, and he knew he had to continue. It was painful but he sank his hands into the mattress and pushed with all of his strength, trying to sit up. He was restrained and the rough, abrasive constraints dug into his skin.

His lungs had been functioning at a low level, allowing just enough oxygen to keep him alive. It was not enough now that he had began his fight to emerge from the healing. Organs rushed to function at their regular capacity as Spock struggled to breath. He had overexerted himself and now felt as if he were going to suffocate. He forced himself to remain calm; struggling would only make matters worse. He just had to concentrate on breathing. He lay still and felt the slow trickle of air filling his lungs; he inhaled slowly, allowing his lungs to adjust.

He realized that he would not survive if he tried to come out of the trance alone, it would take far too long. Spock managed to take in a few deep breaths before he could call out for assistance. His voice was low and strained but he had been heard. Someone came running into the room and removed his restraints.

Something cold and hard was pressed into his hand, and he loosely gripped the object. At the sound of a mechanical click a surge of electricity shot through his hand. His body jerked and twitched but he did not let go. Through the pain he felt able to focus his thoughts. He commanded his body to move, with great effort he was able to sit up on the edge of the bed. After another round of current his eyes fluttered open, and squinting in the bright lights of the room he was able to make out the young Vulcan male at the foot of the bed. "Senok shaya tonat," he rasped as the young Vulcan guard stepped forward and switched off the device. The doctor rushed in and checked his vital sign; severely dehydrated, and fatigued, other than that he was in relatively decent physical shape.

Nyota awoke sensing a strange sense of movement about her; it was not yet time for dinner. At any rate, Thisben would not be on Spock's office. She quickly jumped from the bed and rushed to the door. Putting her ear against it she heard a pair of footsteps but they were not coming in her direction. There was a distant chirping sound of a communicator and then the sound of a door closing. Someone was still there. Slow, heavy footsteps trudged across the carpeted area of the office. The computer was activated. She heard a deep, raspy voice answer the chime of the intercom unit. "Spock here."

Senok shaya tonat = thank you senok


End file.
